Stereotypes and Misconceptions
by Alphabet Pie
Summary: The notoriously homophobic Larxene accidentally moves in with a gay couple and drama ensues. Not quite lemon... more like lemon juice. Larxene, Naminé, Vexen and Marluxia. 411.
1. Chapter 1

The apartment had been perfect, Larxene thought weakly as she sank down to the floor next to the kitchen. Clean, spacious, interesting, with a spare room that the host had promised she'd be allowed to make into a studio for her artworks and a fully equipped kitchen - everything she'd been looking for. It was perfect, utterly perfect, and although she'd have liked to have lived alone she thought that it was worth having a couple - Vexen, the guy who owned the place and his girlfriend Marluxia, whom she'd had yet to meet - living there too because it was exactly what she wanted and more.  
Except, she had now discovered in the worst way possible, there was something horribly horribly wrong with Marluxia and that was that she was a man.  
She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair just as Vexen, half dressed and hastily pulling up his fly, appeared in the kitchen doorway.  
"I'm sorry, you didn't need to see that."  
Somebody out of view handed him his shirt and he shrugged it on, buttoning it up before holding out a hand for Larxene. She didn't take it.  
"You arrived earlier than we expected."  
"You were having _sex_." Larxene managed to spit out accusingly, wishing that she didn't have that image in her mind now, every time she closed her eyes.  
"Yes, we were."  
"In the _kitchen_."  
"It was a spur of the moment thing."  
Finally Larxene stood, glaring with unveiled hatred at the man in front of her. He wasn't unattractive, very tall and very thin with long, pale limbs and long, pale hair and acidic green eyes.  
"With a _man_."  
Vexen nodded slowly.  
"Yes..."  
The man of which Larxene was referring to popped out of the kitchen, still shamelessly naked and apparently unconcerned by any of it.  
"What's going on?"  
"For goodness' sake, Marluxia," Vexen chided disapprovingly, looking Marluxia up and down with eyes that the pink haired man certainly didn't seem to disapprove of. "Put some clothes on. Not everybody wants to see you naked."  
Larxene had already turned away, covering her eyes with her hands.  
"Oh, this is the new girl?"  
"Larxene, yes."  
"Heh. So much for first impressions."  
"Oh, just go and get yourself decent, _please_."  
"I've only got a towel."  
"_It'll do_."  
As Marluxia disappeared again, Vexen gingerly reached out to touch Larxene's shoulder.  
"Larxene? Are you okay?"  
Larxene let out an agitated hiss, shying away before turning slowly to face her new flatmate.  
"You're _gay_."  
Vexen glanced back at the kitchen.  
"I thought you knew that."  
Larxene sighed again, with petulant irritation.  
"That," She declared, "Is disgusting." And she stalked off to her new room before Vexen could reply.

---

"Marluxia, we have a problem."  
Marluxia was making a cup of tea in the kitchen, and rather than chase up a rather angry-seeming Larxene to try to explain everything to her, Vexen had decided to return to the kitchen where his lover was waiting.  
"Yes. We were having sex and then we got interrupted."  
"Not _everything_ is about sex, Marluxia," Vexen commented dryly as he had his backside resolutely slapped on his way past Marluxia. The other man - shorter, but only just - laughed.  
"Pull the other one."  
"You've only _got_ one."  
"I'd grow another for you any day, baby. What's up?"  
Vexen rolled his eyes at the terrible innuendo he'd just walked himself into.  
"Larxene," He said, shaking his head of the mental image it incurred, "Is homophobic."  
"And this is a problem because...?"  
"Marluxia, you cannot possibly have been having sex with me for six years and not have noticed that we're gay."  
"I didn't mean that," Marluxia huffed, coming over to place his fingertips neatly across Vexen's neck, kneading slightly at the place where he knew the tension always built up the quickest. As he leaned down to nip a kiss at an already fairly comprehensively love-bitten neck, he added, "Why does it make a difference to us if she's homophobic? We can just ignore her."  
Vexen sighed a little, tipping back his head to allow Marluxia easier access until his nose was tickled by soft, fluffy hair.  
"Besides," The pink haired man continued, "She's probably just shocked from walking in on us."  
"I told you doing it in the kitchen was a bad idea," Vexen huffed.  
"Oh, you were enjoying it."

---

Larxene Underwood. Eighteen years old, art college student entering her first year of university; petite in stature and anything but in attitude.  
She'd been brought up well by her strict Catholic parents - although she didn't much believe in God any more - and while she'd always known that things would change once she moved out, she hadn't expected _that_.  
Gays.  
Ew. It was just wrong, in a hundred different ways, even without sex being involved - which it clearly was. Sex was for reproduction, not pleasure.  
Still, the apartment was perfect... and she could just ignore them, couldn't she? It wasn't like she actually had to be friends with either of them, she just happened to be in the same house as them, right? It didn't need to be a problem.  
She was just finishing unpacking when there was a knock on her door.  
"Yes?"  
"It's Vexen. Marluxia and I are about to go out. We shan't be back until late."  
"Kay."

Although she'd still been awake when they returned, the fact didn't console her in the slightest because it was a good hour or so before the moans died down in the next room.  
No.  
This was going to be a problem. A very big one.

---

The next morning, Larxene make sure to peek into the kitchen out of the corner of her eye to check that it was empty before walking in to avoid a repeat of yesterday's palava. It was, thankfully, empty.  
The fridge was filled to bursting with foods of all kinds, ordinary and exotic, and on the front was tacked a post it note in presumably Vexen's handwriting - _Feel free to help yourself._ Larxene grabbed herself a yoghurt and found the bread bin to make herself toast - couldn't open it for a moment but she soon found another post it with instructions - _it's a bit stiff but if you punch it it'll work just fine. A bit like Marluxia._  
Larxene rolled her eyes as she shoved the bread into the toaster. It was a small thing just big enough for two slices, and presumably had been white once but somebody had scribbled notes all over it with a marker pen so that now it was an electric mix of bright - borderline psychedelic - colours. It was sort of sweet, really, until Larxene looked closer and saw what the person had been writing on it.  
She did her best to ignore it after that, as well as the gay magazines lying on the counter, as she settled on a stool in front of the sideboard that served as the kitchen table and began to eat.  
She was just finishing as Vexen walked in, dressed smartly with his wet hair plastered back into a high pony tail bar two strands that hung stubbornly around his long face.  
"Good morning. I take it you found my notes."  
Larxene nodded in vague acknowledgement but otherwise ignored the older man. Moments later there was a clack as the bread bin was punched and opened, then the click of the toaster humming to life again.  
"I'm sorry about the toaster. That was Marluxia's fault. Mostly Marluxia's fault."  
"You could have cleaned it off."  
"Permanent marker."  
"Oh."  
"I probably could get it off," Vexen continued as he leaned past Larxene for the butter, "But considering what attempting to do the same did to my skin, I'm hesitant to try."  
Larxene couldn't help but ask, although she regretted it immediately.  
"Why did you have permanent marker on your skin?"  
"... You probably don't want to know."  
"Right."  
After that they both ate in silence, Larxene standing with her plate once she was done.  
"What should I do with this?"  
"Just leave it by the sink. Marluxia'll wash it up once he gets up."  
"And when will that be?"  
"Probably when I drag him out of bed kicking and screaming," Vexen chuckled, although he fell right back into awkward silence as soon as Larxene didn't join in. She simply left the plate next to the sink and left without another word.  
Vexen resisted the urge to lay his forehead on the counter at her blunt disapproval of him - well, fair enough, she _had_ walked in on them having sex - but fingers crossed that would only last a few days. Marluxia could probably win her over with his boyish charm and elegant sophistication. He always seemed to manage it with all the other girls.  
Half an hour later, Larxene left for university without another word, and Vexen decided that it was probably time to start stealing bedding from Marluxia. His first lecture wasn't until ten; if they were quick they could probably fit in a round of morning sex before he needed to leave.

---

"Hey, Naminé!"  
Larxene had been lucky enough not to be going to art college alone - her old friend, Naminé, who was nine months younger than her, had been lucky enough to get into the same university as her and they'd decided to do the same course - foundation - so that they could be together. And though they'd originally planned to move into a little flat together, or maybe halls of residence, things hadn't quite worked out with Naminé's parents who wanted their precious little flower of a daughter to be safe, so she was stuck living with her grandparents who owned a little house in the next town over.  
"Larky! You arrived safe!"  
They shared a hug as Naminé hopped off the train to greet Larxene, laughing a little at finally seeing each other again after a long summer.  
"How've you been, kiddo?"  
"Don't call me that!"  
"_Kiddo_."  
"I've been fine," Naminé laughed as they made their way down to the university grounds. "The trip to Africa was amazing. You should have come with me, Larx. You'd have loved it. What about you? Is that guy's girlfriend nice?"  
Larxene's smile instantly faded.  
"Nice?" She echoed sarcastically as they stopped at a traffic light. "Nice? He's a _man_."  
This didn't seem to have the intended effect on Naminé, whose eyes suddenly lit up with a shy little grin.  
"Really? Oh, that's so cute!"  
"It's not "cute"," Larxene huffed sourly. "It's vile. I walked in on them having _sex_. Up against the counter in the kitchen."  
Naminé was giggling.  
"You're so lucky. I'd love to live with two gay guys."  
"It's unnatural!"  
"I guess," Naminé said reluctantly. "But at least they're not trying to hit on you, right? That would be worse."  
"Better me than each other," Larxene muttered. "And anyway, Marluxia's quite good looking. When he's not naked."  
Naminé stopped giggling only when Larxene shot her a look of pure evil.  
"What about Vexen, is it? What's he like?"  
"He looks kinda like a ghost," Larxene admitted. "I mean, he's so pale."  
"Is he an albino?" Naminé asked.  
"Oh, no. His eyes are green. I mean, really green. Like, electric green green. The rest of him is completely colourless."  
"And Marluxia?"  
Larxene gallantly didn't put her head in her hands.  
"Pink hair."  
"That's so sweet," Naminé murmured. Larxene scoffed.  
"Vulgar, more like."  
They were silent for the rest of the journey to the college and their first tutorial.

---

Marluxia LaRue was a happy man.  
Even as he dug out a stick of the concealer that he and Vexen were always using to hide their love bites, he couldn't help but smile discretely to himself. It was nearly three years since he'd moved in with his boyfriend and slowly all their life's plans were really beginning to come together now. It wasn't perfect because Marluxia had long since realised that nothing would ever be no matter how hard he wished for it, but they were pretty damn close.  
Vexen had already left to travel to University where he was in his fourth and final year of studying chemistry. The thought of next year his doctorate being complete made Marluxia a little giddy with anticipation. _Dr Vexen Carlisle_. It had a wonderful sort of ring to it. Marluxia himself had forced himself through A Levels but given up school as soon as he was eighteen, mostly to be with Vexen, but also because while he was okay at almost everything, there wasn't any single subject in which he really excelled. It didn't bother him much. He helped out in a bookshop and worked as a waiter a few evenings a week which kept him busy and earned just enough money to pay the bills, and besides, somebody needed to do all the housework that seemed constantly to be piling up.  
He'd never been one to let other people get to him (except Vexen, but that was a _good_ thing), so he was hardly concerned by Larxene's apparent distaste for his sexuality. Although the chances were that Vexen was blowing things out of proportion (again) and Larxene was just taking her sweet time in actually properly introducing herself to them.  
The small smile hadn't faded in the slightest as Marluxia pulled on his trainers and disappeared out of the door.

---

A week later, and Larxene had lost count of the number of times that she'd walked in on Vexen and Marluxia making out or worse here there and everywhere. She'd even caught them in public, once - walking to the station with Naminé who'd gleefully pointed them out kissing on a park bench as though she was delighted at being able to tease Larxene about it. Which was unlike Naminé at all, and Larxene didn't like that one bit.  
And since the two of them were far too intimidating when together, Larxene decided to approach Marluxia about the issue on her Friday off after Vexen had left for one of his lectures.  
"Can't you two just tone it down a bit? I'm getting sick of having to put up with you constantly swapping spit and more all over the place."  
He turned from watering the line of carnivorous plants on the windowsill and smiled apologetically.  
"Sorry, sweetheart. You're talking to the wrong person. I really couldn't care less."  
Larxene frowned angrily, drawing her small lips together into a thin, tight line.  
"It's disgusting!" She announced, her main argument for her case.  
Marluxia turned disinterestedly back to the plants, smiling again as he effortlessly caught a fly buzzing against the window and dropped it into a gaping trap.  
"You know, these traps can close in less than a tenth of a second," He said. "That's faster than you can blink."  
"What has that got to do with anything?" Larxene asked incredulously. Marluxia shrugged and didn't reply - and effortlessly destroyed the conversation. It was a few minutes before Larxene managed to try again.  
"Look, what I'm trying to say is that fair enough, do what you want in your bedroom, but I don't need to see it _or_ hear it. You're two bloody exhibitionists, that's what you are. It's just wrong."  
"Wrong?" Marluxia questioned, turning back and arching one neat, tapered eyebrow. "Is it wrong to express your love to another?"  
"It's not _love_," Larxene instantly shot back. "It's just sex."  
"Keep telling yourself that, darling."  
He patted her tussled hair as he walked past, smiling again, and she scowled, unnoticed, at his retreating back. Then, quite suddenly, he turned.  
"I'm going to walk next door's dog this afternoon. Care to join me?"  
Larxene wrinkled her nose. Dogs and gays. No thanks.  
"I'm fine."  
"Fair enough. But I think the fresh air will do you good."  
"_You_ think that taking it up the arse is a good way to have fun."  
Marluxia laughed flippantly, unconcerned by Larxene's low stabs at his sexuality.  
"It is. You should try it some time."  
Larxene rolled her eyes.  
"See what I mean? That's just not right."


	2. Chapter 2

Vexen wasn't so lucky.  
He tried to make friends with Larxene, he honestly did, but he'd never exactly been the most sociable of people and when she instantly - and vocally - decided to hate him, it was all he could do not to close up on himself completely. He wondered vaguely, a month in as he walked past Larxene's room to hear her complaining loudly on the phone about the "fucking faggots", whether she realised just how much every low, biting remark was beginning to hurt him.  
And when Vexen was hurt he became snappish and grouchy and stopped appreciating Marluxia's attempts to sex him up while he was trying to finish preparation for an important presentation, even if he had been honestly asking for a distraction by sprawling out on the bed, naked and on his stomach, as he tapped word after chemical formula into his laptop. But eventually, even he had to succumb to a soothing massage from Marluxia's experienced fingertips, the ones that had long since memorised every curve of the older man's body.  
"It's Larxene, isn't it."  
Vexen knew by now that there was no point in lying to Marluxia. They never really lied any more; it led to a lot of arguments when one, other or both of them were painfully blunt, but Marluxia had said - and Vexen remembered well - that it was complicated enough interacting with another person without knowing if they were being honest or not. Vexen had laughed bitterly. Marluxia had nothing to complain about; he had the ability to traverse social situations with effortless ease; it was Vexen who just didn't _get_ other people. It was that that meant that Vexen had very few friends of his own (he tended to sort of leech off Marluxia in that department as the pink haired man had plenty) and - as Marluxia had once accidentally admitted - probably a contribution to the fact that he didn't have any family, either.  
"She reminds me of my mother."  
"Just ignore her," Marluxia said gently, draping himself over his lover's back to stare over his shoulder at the screen, filled with words that were all Greek to him. Vexen sighed.  
"Don't you think I'm trying?"  
"It's not like she can do anything to you," Marluxia insisted. "She's just some girl. Who cares?"  
"_I_ care."  
"Well, don't. It's starting to affect your libido and you can only just keep up with me at the best of times." Marluxia huffed half-seriously, and successfully drew a short chuckle from the man beneath him. He smiled triumphantly. "Do I feel a pair of gorgeous legs opening for me?"  
Vexen was grinning despite himself as he wriggled Marluxia away.  
"I've still got another five minutes of speaking to fill."  
"So? I know you can read books and have sex at the same time."  
"That's different. I actually have to concentrate now. And anyway, it'll completely mess up the speech. I'll get to one point and realise that it was the part when we came or whatever, and I'll start blushing and ruin everything."  
Marluxia laughed, climbing stubbornly back onto Vexen's lower back, wrapping his arms around the other man.  
"Now that I'd like to see."  
"And ruin my doctorate? I don't think so," Vexen replied sardonically.  
"Hey, I didn't think that this was actually part of your final thing."  
"It counts for fifteen percent of my research," Vexen explained, turning reluctantly back to his laptop to tap more and more notes. "Besides, once I've written this, I need to learn it. And that'll take ages. So we don't have time for sex."  
"We _always_ have time for sex," Marluxia huffed petulantly, his fingers wandering again to find those delightfully wide hips. They were still a little bruised from last night, but then again that was part of the wonderful thing about it. The two of them were always covered in little welts and love marks, souvenirs lovingly left from each other - at first it had been somewhat embarrassing, particularly during school trips, but their friends soon got used to their rather sexual nature and hardly anybody (except old ladies from across the street, and people like that) noticed them any more.  
"No, we don't," Vexen replied flatly, rolling onto his back to play with buttons - it wasn't fair that he was the only one naked, after all. "We just do it anyway. I swear, I'd have everything done a week before the deadline if only you'd keep your hands away from me for just a few more hours in a day."  
"_My_ hands?" Marluxia replied incredulously, grinning as he brushed Vexen's hair away from his ear, leaning down to lick at it with a hot, wet tongue. "I'm not the only one who can't stay away when he needs to."  
Vexen decided that that didn't warrant a reply as he smiled a smaller - but no less predatory - smile, and shoved the laptop somewhere to be forgotten in lieu of far more interesting, beautiful things. Half an hour later, Larxene came in asking if anybody was planning on cooking supper or whether another takeaway would be in order for tonight - and immediately wished she'd never thought to ask.  
"At least we're being quiet this time,"  
"You're bloody _fingering_ each other!"  
"Ten out of ten for observation, sweetie."  
Larxene scowled at the opposite wall through her fingers which were covering her face. She'd seen more permanently scarring things in one month of living with Vexen and Marluxia than the entirety of the rest of her eighteen year old and somewhat sheltered life.  
"You know what," She managed as her mind wandered on to all the things that Marluxia and Vexen touched with their fingers apart from each other's genitals, "I think I'll order in a Chinese. And buy some new cutlery. And doorknobs."  
"Heh. Knob."  
"Marluxia!"  
"Sorry. That was a bit immature, wasn't it."  
"_Very_."

-

"I swear, if I walk on them doing it one more time, I'll..."  
Larxene was walking Naminé to the station like she always did after another day of Uni, some day at the end of October, and as had become sort of customary to her, she was complaining about Vexen and Marluxia. She normally used Naminé as a kind of vent for all her frustrations, because all the guys in her class just laughed and none of the girls seemed to understand. For some reason, they thought that having moans and - oh God, it really was disgusting - squelching noises going on in the corner when she tried to watch TV in the evening was actually _cute_. But Naminé just listened to her in pensive silence as she ranted on about how if God existed, then why hadn't he smitten them yet, and anyway even if they didn't miraculously get struck by lightning, they'd probably get Aids soon and die.  
"Not everybody who's gay has Aids, you know," Naminé had piped up halfway through one of these rants. "And lesbians actually have the lowest amount of it out of any group."  
"Yeah, well, Marluxia and Vexen aren't lesbians, are they?"  
Naminé let out a little sigh. She was probably tied, Larxene thought. Well, it was Friday and then there'd be Halloween at the weekend - and somebody was throwing a party that Larxene and Naminé were both invited to - so she was probably just not looking forward to not only getting no sleep at the weekend, but then being forced to suffer a whole nother week of it afterwards.  
"At least they're not just going off and having sex with random strangers."  
"How would that help? They're _always_ having sex. I'm sick of it."  
"Have you tried talking to them about it?"  
Larxene snorted.  
"Of course. But they won't do a single thing about it. Vexen just gets all uptight about it, and Marluxia laughs, and five minutes later they're snogging again. And they leave dirty little post it notes around the place for each other. I hate it."  
"Well," Naminé said quietly, "It's not like it's all because they're gay."  
"_I_ wouldn't have that much sex if I had a boyfriend."  
"How do you know that?"  
For once, Larxene was at a bit of a loss. How _did_ she know that she wouldn't be all over her boyfriend if she had one? The truth was, she didn't, but she didn't want Naminé - who was being annoyingly argumentative as it was - to know that.  
"Only gay people have that much sex. They're all just horny, dirty bastards."  
This seemed to have the right effect. Naminé shut up and had nothing else to say on the matter for the rest of the journey, and she waved Larxene away as soon as they reached the station, even though there was still another ten minutes before her train was due to arrive.

-

"Hey, Larxene. We're repainting our room, finally, this weekend. Wanna help out?"  
Marluxia had caught up with Larxene an hour or so after she'd arrived back home - the apartment had been blissfully silent ever since because Vexen was staying out late at his University to finish some work uninterrupted for his presentation on Monday. Marluxia always found that Larxene was somewhat easier to talk to when only one of them was around - but that was probably because one of them was usually groping the other if they were together.  
But she'd shook her head anyway.  
"I've got a party."  
"All weekend?" Marluxia asked with a slight quirky smile. Excuses, excuses. Larxene was full of them when it came to voluntarily spending time with either of her housemates.  
"Yeah. Well, I'm sleeping over and I'll be hung over all of Sunday anyway."  
"That's a shame. We're doing a mural and we were really hoping that you'd be able to help us out. Being an art student and all."  
"What are you going to paint?" Larxene asked incredulously. "A giant cock?"  
Marluxia chuckled.  
"Now there's an idea. We were actually thinking of a sunset over a cityscape, or something similar, but a giant cock works too."  
Larxene rolled her eyes, turning back to her art research on some famous sculptor with more enthusiasm than she held for talking to Marluxia, and even that wasn't very much.  
"Well, I'm busy."  
"Fair enough. But if you change your mind, we'll probably start at about nine tomorrow. So for once we actually will be moving furniture."  
"Very funny." Larxene said. She didn't laugh. Marluxia sighed, mostly to himself.  
"You know, it would be nice if you at least tried to make an effort."  
"It would be nice if _you_ tried to make an effort!"  
"I'm not having sex now, am I?" Marluxia said, holding his hands out. "And when was the last time we were doing it anywhere other than our bedroom? Face it, Larxene. Even if you haven't bothered to notice, Vexen and I have changed for you. Do you want us to put a pink fluffy hairband on the door when we're having sex from now on? I've got a fair few. We could have a different one for each position, that way you'd know what we were doing without having to see it since you're clearly so curious, the time you spend going on about it. We could even have a little band for a blow job or a hand job."  
"See?" Larxene said triumphantly, standing abruptly and knocking her water pot to the floor without noticing. "See, this is your problem. Everything is just _sex_ to you! You are so _shallow_. You're revolting."  
Marluxia raised his eyebrows a little, more or less unfazed by Larxene's open disgust.  
"Who are you," He challenged evenly, "To say what is shallow and what isn't? You've never even had a boyfriend. You've never fallen in love. How can you possibly know how either Vexen or I feel?"  
He reached down to pick up the spilled pot from the floor, placing it back onto Larxene's desk with calculated precision.  
"Because it seems to me like you're the shallow one. Just because we're gay you're refusing to look past the surface to see that underneath we're human just like anybody else. That kind of prejudice will cost you friends, Larxene."  
"Is that a threat?" Larxene asked. She'd turned back to her painting, ugly brush strokes furiously marring the page as she worked. She couldn't meet Marluxia's eyes and he knew it.  
"No," He replied softly as he left. "Just a simple observation."  
He knew that would sting her more. An amiable enough person Marluxia was most of the time, but he knew how to cut someone and cut them deep. He wasn't threatening that it could happen. He was saying that it _would_. Sure enough, Larxene's fists clenched angrily, and so - rubbing salt into the wound the way he always effortlessly and completely consciously could, he added flippantly - "The offer on us helping paint our room is still open."

Larxene ignored them both for another two weeks.

-

"Larxene?"  
Larxene had been using Sharpies in her room and the fumes were beginning to mess with her head, so she'd migrated into the kitchen when Marluxia wandered in alone and began to nonchalantly raid the fridge as though nothing had been happening and they'd always been friends. She ignored him at first, but when he repeated her name she realised that she was doing nothing but incriminating herself by refusing to speak.  
"What?"  
"I'm walking next door's dog in a minute. Want to come?"  
Larxene sighed inwardly.  
"I don't know why you bother to ask me things like that. You know the answer will be no."  
"I keep hoping that you'll change your mind about Vexen and I," Marluxia said, almost sadly. Larxene glanced up from her work.  
"What do you mean? I think I've got you both down to a T. Sex crazed maniacs."  
"Just because we're sex crazed doesn't mean there isn't more to us,"  
"I've never seen anything else," Larxene huffed in a voice that clearly said that she didn't want to be talked to. Marluxia persevered anyway.  
"So obviously you haven't noticed that Vexen does snowboarding on Thursdays, or that I help out at the local church doing flower arrangements for the Sunday services? The fact that we always make a point to go and do something new every once in a while that isn't sex, and clearly you didn't know that we're saving up to go on holiday together this summer after Vexen's doctorate is finished."  
Larxene, predictably, didn't reply. Marluxia was silent too for a time, plucking out an apple and eating it carefully until nothing was left but a pippy core.  
"Perhaps you should give us a chance," He finally said, and, picking up his shoes and slipping them on, left. As he was disappearing out of the door, Larxene found herself mouthing two vindictive little words at his back:  
"_Fat chance_."

-

Advent arrived and with it came a box taken out of storage filled with beautiful old decorations that soon found their way around the apartment. Larxene and Vexen managed to arrive home together one day - they didn't speak - to find the hallway glittering with fairy lights and strung with tinsel and baubles, paper chains and more lights infecting the kitchen with a festive cheer. Larxene didn't want to admit it, but they were pretty. Very pretty. There wasn't a tree - neither of them could afford one - but in place of one there were extra baubles and decorations gaudily strung from every protruding edge available. Some were very old, homemade with pipecleaners and glitter paint, but they still managed to have a nostalgic charm about them. There was one that confused Larxene - what looked to be a washing line strung with pegs.  
"What's this one supposed to be?"  
"Hm? Oh, that's for cards. Marluxia's family always do that, so we just carried on the tradition here."  
Larxene was loathe to admit that it was actually a pretty good idea.  
"So what about your family? Any traditions you took here?"  
Vexen coughed uncomfortably.  
"No."  
Larxene frowned, wondering why Vexen had suddenly spoken so coldly and bluntly. She'd been talking to him, hadn't she? Making an effort, even if he was a dirty faggot who honestly didn't deserve everything that he had, wasn't she?  
"Why not? Boring, are they? You never talk about them. Even Marluxia's mentioned his Mum and Dad a couple of times."  
Vexen looked away, his fingers brushing over a messily painted cardboard snowflake that was grinning gaily as it twinkled in the light.  
"I don't want to talk about it."  
In Larxene's mind this translated to _I don't want to talk to you_ and she scowled again, discretely and purposefully knocking a little bauble to the floor. It bounced harmlessly on the thick carpet and settled in a nook a foot or so from where she stood.  
"Fine."  
Vexen seemed offended, which was odd because for once Larxene hadn't even insulted him.  
"Larxene?" He said suddenly after several minutes of awkward silence.  
"What."  
"Have you ever been pushed away from somebody just because of who you were?"  
Larxene shrugged.  
"Sure. You can't have everybody like you. Who gives a shit?"  
"I mean, somebody you really loved."  
"I wouldn't love them if they didn't like who I was." Larxene said. "Simple as. What's the point of loving them if they hate you?"  
Vexen helplessly shook his head.  
"But if you loved them before they found out this thing about you."  
Vexen was so obviously speaking autobiographically, Larxene thought as she settled down on the sofa, turning on the TV and flicking idly through the channels. There was nothing satisfactory to watch.  
"Who was it, then?"  
Vexen glanced up, shook his head and let it hang again.  
"Nobody."  
He was tense for a moment until there was the sound of a key clicking open a lock and suddenly relief washed over Vexen's face and he hurried out to greet Marluxia. For a while Larxene could hear them conversing in low voices in the hallway, but then they disappeared into their room and she could pick out nothing more.

-

Marluxia had lain candles along the windowsill in the kitchen, twenty four of them, and every evening as they sat down for supper he would turn off all the lamps, light all the corresponding candles and that was how they would eat, by soft, flickering candlelight. The first night, there was just one and they ate blindly, in near darkness with just one candle to light them, but as the days progressed and more and more candles were lit each night, things became clearer, became easier. It was almost poetic, the simplicity of Marluxia's unusual advent calendar, and the way that the shimmering lights formed a clear diagonal line, the first candle the lowest as the weight of every cold December day wore its soft wax down, was somehow so beautiful.  
"Things are getting clearer," Marluxia explained on the fifteenth as they ate by the light of enough candles to clearly see the colours of the food that he'd earlier prepared. "Like the Three Wise Men, travelling to Bethlehem by the light of a single star - as we draw closer, things are slowly becoming clearer."  
Larxene was struck numb by that simple statement. It was different, somehow, to every strict mass she'd suffered through at Sunday School, all her parent's promises that if she didn't live by the Bible she'd be damned to hell for all eternity along with the murderers and rapists and gays. It made sense.  
"I thought you didn't believe in religion."  
"I don't," Marluxia said softly as Vexen looked away as though he was embarrassed. "It's just a beautiful story."  
Larxene turned back to the shadows dancing around the food on her plate.  
"Oh."


	3. Chapter 3

Naminé was becoming distant.  
It started one morning when she'd called to say that she couldn't walk to college that day, and then didn't walk with her at all after that. They still walked home, at least to the railway station, but she was always locked in some kind of accusatory silence, and Larxene couldn't understand why.  
"Okay," She said one afternoon. "What's up with you?"  
Naminé, who had been staring at her feet, sighed heavily, shoulders sagging so much that Larxene imagined that her arms might simply fall off if they were to sink any lower.  
"Nothing."  
"Liar."  
Naminé looked up, glaring into Larxene's baby blue eyes.  
"Yeah. I'm fed up with being one. So I'll just shut up instead."  
Larxene mused on this for a while as the continued to walk. She turned it over and over in her mind - what was Naminé lying about? What could she possibly be lying about? Eventually, Larxene realised that she could only imagine one possibility.  
"You don't like me?"  
Naminé stopped in the middle of the pavement, kicking a little at a crack in the stone with her foot. She didn't meet Larxene's eyes again.  
"Let's just go with that."  
And she turned a corner and was gone. Larxene backtracked a quicker way home that evening, like she even wanted to get back to Vexen and Marluxia giggling like idiotic little girls over something that she didn't understand, or pressed against each other somewhere with hands slipped around necks, up shirts and down trousers, or even worse with no shirts or trousers to press hands into.  
He mood was foul when she found Vexen alone and tapping away at his laptop in the sitting room, half naked despite the chill of the typically underheated apartment.  
"Put some clothes on, would you. Nobody needs to see that."  
Vexen glanced up momentarily, biting his lip as he stood, setting his laptop down where he'd been sitting and making his way to the door.  
"Sorry. I didn't think you'd be home yet."  
Larxene didn't think that he needed an explanation as to why.  
"Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint you."  
"That wasn't what I meant," Vexen replied quietly, momentarily slipping into his room and returning with a long sleeved shirt and an old looking sweatervest. "I just..." And he didn't finish the sentence, settling down once more to the laptop and beginning to type again. Larxene felt like she was being ignored, and didn't like it.  
"I had a shit day today," She announced, sitting down at the very other end of the sofa and flicking on the TV.  
"That's nice," Vexen said and to Larxene he sounded disinterested.  
"Maybe for a sick masochist like you."  
Vexen didn't reply immediately, but his fingers stopped flying across the miniature notebook keyboard. He took a deep breath or two, then stood up again.  
"I wish."  
Larxene gave him the middle finger as he hung briefly around the doorway.  
"Fucking poof."  
Again, Vexen hesitated, looking at the laptop screen as though his half finished thesis was going to help him to come up with an equally biting reply.  
It didn't.  
"I don't see how that has anything to do with, well, anything."  
"It has everything to do with _everything_!" Larxene exclaimed from her post at the TV. "You and all your sick, gay fetishes that I have to put up with day in and day out. It's dirty. It's sick and dirty. I don't even know why it's legal, the things that you and Marluxia think it's okay to do."  
"In many countries," Vexen said, folding up his laptop with a neat click, "It still is illegal. People are murdered and nobody does a thing about it, just because they're gay."  
"There you go hiding behind your statistics like that's supposed to make me feel sorry for you," Larxene scoffed heartlessly. She didn't really register Vexen biting on his lip so hard that it bled, or his knuckles shining white from his tightly clenched fists as he looked for anywhere to place his gaze that wouldn't be painful, desperate or weak. He hung around the doorway for ten, twenty, thirty seconds, then disappeared silently.  
A minute or so later, Larxene found herself yawning. She needed a distraction, one that wasn't gay. Wasn't there are party going on tonight? She pulled out her mobile and made a few calls, and soon enough she was changing, pulling on nice shoes and applying a splattering of concealer and mascara, finding a breath freshener - just in case - and chucking her keys into her handbag, she was gone.

-

Marluxia came home from helping out at the local youth club to find Vexen in the kitchen, staring blankly at the wall and looking distinctly miserable. He gently slipped around behind him, laying his head on Vexen's shoulder and wrapping his arms around his neck.  
"You look terrible."  
Vexen sighed, brushing Marluxia away.  
"I feel terrible."  
"Larxene?"  
"Larxene."  
Marluxia sat next to Vexen and tried to take his hand, but again he was rejected.  
"Just ignore her," He said softly. "Don't listen to her stupid lies."  
"I can't help it," Vexen said helplessly. "She... she sounds just like my mother. She says exactly the same things sometimes. I feel so useless."  
"She's just an ugly, vicious cow," Marluxia promised, a smile fleetingly passing his features - but it faded once he saw that Vexen had not been consoled in the slightest. "She's just jealous that we're happy and she's not. Don't let her bring you down."  
"Happy?" Vexen echoed with a scoff. "Happy? I'm not _happy_, Marluxia. I'm Goddamn miserable."  
Marluxia tried to kiss Vexen on the cheek, only to be pushed away by a cold, unsteady hand.  
"We'll kick her out," He promised with renewed vigour. Anybody who could upset Vexen enough to stop kisses from being in order certainly didn't deserve a place to stay in Marluxia's eyes. "We'll kick her out like we should have done way back in September."  
Vexen shook his head.  
"It's too late, Marluxia. I can't take this any more."  
"That's why we'll get rid of her," Marluxia promised again. "See how she likes it, the slimy bitch."  
"You don't understand," Vexen insisted. "You're so fine with people flinging insults at you left right and centre that you don't understand that it's too late and I already feel like a useless shit who doesn't even deserve to live any more. Just like before."  
Marluxia sighed a little, eyebrows furrowing as he remembered all too well trying to console Vexen the last time he'd felt so bad, back when he was just sixteen and Marluxia fifteen, in an evening that had started with conversation and turned to kisses and love bites and sleeping curled up together in Vexen's old, urine-reeking mattress (it couldn't even really be described as a bed), and three months of trying to summon up the courage to explain to his parents that he'd fallen in love with a boy without even realising that they'd known all along.  
"Vexen," He said firmly, "Don't make me prove that you're anything but useful, and you deserve nothing more than to be content and happy for the rest of your life, because I _will_."  
"How?" Vexen asked dully, and it was barely even a question, just a statement of his utter disillusionment. "Sex? Sex that'll just prove that Larxene's right, that that's the only thing in our relationship?"  
"Don't try to pull that one on me," Marluxia said. "You know as well as I do that sex is just our way of saying I love you."  
"Or is it just an excuse that we try to use because, deep inside, we know that we can't?"  
"_I love you_," Marluxia said with such fierceness that he surprised even himself. "I love you, Vexen. I love you and your company and your body and your personality and your voice and your smile and your intelligence and your hips and your kisses and your laugh and your penis and your eyes and your hair and your jokes and every single other part of you. I don't care what Larxene or your Goddamn parents think is right in their perfect little world of heterosexuality, because I _swear_, if I know one thing it's that I love you."  
Vexen looked away, sighing.  
"I don't know," He eventually admitted. "I just don't know."  
If Marluxia had expected anything to slip from Vexen's mouth, it wasn't that. He'd thought that maybe Vexen would apologise like he often did for things that were anything but his fault, or at the very least to confess back. He was even hoping, perhaps, for a hug or a kiss. But not _that_.  
Not _I don't know._  
"I love you," He whispered again, furiously blinking back tears. Vexen was just upset, that was all. It wasn't like it was the end of their relationship.  
Vexen stood abruptly.  
"Stop saying that!"  
"But-"  
"Just stop! I don't want to hear that from a _man_!"  
Marluxia bit his lip, unable to stare Vexen's wild green eyes down. He didn't know what to do. He'd never expected this. Not in his worst nightmares. He'd not even figured it into the equation, he and Vexen were just Together and that had always just been _that_.  
"I'm sorry."  
Vexen shook his head, long hair swinging.  
"I can't take this any more."  
"Do you want to give Larxene the satisfaction of having you succumb to her vile personality?" Marluxia snapped before he could catch himself, knocking his chair backwards as he stood too. It clattered to the floor, hitting Marluxia in the leg on its way down. He ignored the pain and the chair both.  
"I already have!" Vexen screamed. Now that Marluxia finally brought himself to look, he saw the ugly red tracks that pouring tears had left on his lover's face, eyes puffy as more pushed forth and rolled down his cheeks, dripping from his chin like his face itself was simply melting away in grief. "I can't take this any more! I can't take being _alone_, knowing that my family hate me because of something I can't even control, and I can't take having you remind me every single _fucking_ day that I'm a fucking homosexual like it's a good thing, and if you dare try to follow me, I _swear_..."  
And Marluxia was still trapped in numb, shocked silence even as the front door opened and slammed seconds later. Then he took one deep, shaky breath, and began to sob.

-

Larxene felt much better when she dragged herself in through the door at three o'clock in the morning, drunk and exhausted, and she didn't really notice Marluxia rush out of the kitchen looking like a mess and then deflate as soon as he saw her, too focused on finding out where her bedroom door was. She slept well.

-

Marluxia didn't.

-

Vexen had left.  
_Vexen had left_.  
The one single thing that Marluxia had never thought would ever happen, because he and Vexen were closer than close, always had been and always would be, and here he was alone in the kitchen and Vexen had just left. Just stormed out in a fury of anger and self loathing and Marluxia hadn't even been able to stop him. Hadn't been able to say "No, you're wrong, being gay _is_ a good thing. Haven't I taught you that? Haven't we proved that you can be gay, and happy?". Hadn't been able to just capture Vexen in a hug whether he liked it or not - a hundred million things that he could and should have done buzzed around Marluxia's head like flies, incessantly from the moment the door slammed right up until the moment he passed out in the kitchen at five thirty in the morning, convinced that he'd hear the door open and Vexen return, just in five more minutes, five more minutes, five more minutes.  
When he woke again out of fitful nightmarish agony - and an awful headache from hitting a chair on the way down to the floor - he was desperate to crawl into bed, but he knew even as he propped himself up against the wall that he couldn't because there was no way he could ever sleep there without Vexen's limbs poking him in uncomfortable places, and his hair fanned across his face and tickling his nose. So there he lay, staring blankly at the tiles on the opposite wall that they'd painted sweet little personal jokes from their early days onto, then looking at the love poems made out of magnetic words on the fridge when that got to painful. Here was a post it note in Vexen's handwriting, punctuated by a love heart that seemed like an ironic mockery now, there was the toaster still covered in rude jokes from marker pens. There was even a doodle on the ceiling, a rude remark or three with an arrow pointing to a mysterious stain on the white, untextured plaster. It was too much. _Everything_ was just covered in memories of Vexen.  
But closing his eyes was even worse because then images flickered like tantalising could-have-beens across his mind, of Vexen and Vexen and nothing but Vexen. At least when he looked at the fridge it was just a fridge. He longed to pass out again, sleep in blissful denial that Vexen was there, was going to be there, was never going to leave again.  
When Larxene found him she was hung over and less than sympathetic.  
"What's up with you? You look like you've just seen somebody die."  
"I think," Marluxia said, his voice cracking with every syllable as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "I have."  
Larxene gave him the kind of look normally reserved for hoboes and druggies off the street, and nodded disbelievingly.  
"... Right. Your phone charger's broken, by the way. Tried to use it this morning, I think the wire's snapped somewhere."  
"Kay." Marluxia said.  
"Where's Vexen? Left for Uni already? I thought he had Thursdays off like me."  
"I dunno."  
"You always know where Vexen is," Larxene insisted, a frown settling on her features. "You follow him around like a lost puppy."  
Marluxia closed his eyes to block Larxene out for as long as he could bear to see Vexen imprinted on the back of his eyelids. And then when he was forced to acknowledge her, he blurted out -  
"He's gone."  
"Gone where?"  
"I don't know. He just walked out. Last night. And now he's gone."  
Larxene actually had the downright cruelty to laugh.  
"I'm not surprised. You're pretty annoying."  
Marluxia tried to say _don't say that!_ but the memories of last night flooded back because that was what Vexen had said, and the words caught in his throat and he couldn't. Instead as Larxene pottered around the kitchen in disinterested silence, he managed -  
"He loves me."  
"Hardly."  
Marluxia looked up with the most heartbroken expression that pretty much summed up everything he felt. Larxene did not see it.  
"But-"  
Larxene, who was grabbing something that would hopefully stop her head pounding from the medicals basket in one cupboard, scowled and interrupted.  
"Who are you trying to kid, yourself? Vexen never loved you and you never loved him. All you had was sex. Sex, sex, sex. Every day, because you had to cover up for the fact that you couldn't even _love_ each other, sex. Fucking sodomy, that's what it was. Nothing more than that. You two had _nothing_. Just loads and loads of Goddamn _sex_. If there really is a hell, you fucking deserve to go to it."  
She walked out and numbly, Marluxia realised that nobody had eaten dinner and yesterday's candles were still unlit, so he picked up the matches and struck one, lighting now the smallest of the candles, then using it to spring the others to flaming life, too. Here in the late morning sunshine they didn't light up the room, unable to compete with the strong light of the sun. They looked so pathetic, so weak like when the darkness came they'd be blotted out entirely.  
Marluxia waited until they'd melted down a little and then snuffed them out with his fingertips until he burned.

-

_"Hey, Marluxia. It's Vexen.  
Look, I'm really sorry that I walked out last night. I was just feeling awful, although that's probably no excuse for how much I must have hurt you.  
I need some time away from Larxene. I just can't deal with her right now; I'm stressed enough with University work, I don't need her making things difficult too. It's not your fault. I'll come back in a few days. Maybe a week. I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me until then. I wouldn't want to talk to me, either. But I really do love you, whatever I said. I'm staying with Lexaeus and Zexion. I kind of miss you already, but I need the time away."_  
And uncharged lay Marluxia's phone, in a crack down the side of the sofa, the voice mail unreceived and unheard.


	4. Chapter 4

(Sorry about that mistake, guys. Here's the actual last chapter rather than a repeat of chapter Three orz;; Enjoy!)

---

The housework was beginning to pile up, but Marluxia had long since decided that he wasn't going to get out of bed. He'd found a pillow that smelled of Vexen and buried his nose into it, lying still and numb and with no idea what to do.  
Vexen was going to come back for his things. Even if he didn't want Marluxia any more, he was going to have to come back for his things. So Marluxia had decided that he was going to stay at home and be there the moment Vexen thought it was safe to slip back in to grab whatever he could stuff into some hypothetical, imagined bag. He wasn't sure what he'd do after that, and he was sort of hoping on Vexen being able to spur him into saying something in the moment when their eyes would inevitably meet.  
What _could_ he say? It was quite obvious that things were Not Good, and it almost certainly had something to do with Larxene, and sex. So... Admittedly, Marluxia and Vexen did have more sex than was considered normal or even possibly healthy, but that was just the way they were. Sexing each other up was, as both of them had often insisted, just their way of saying "I love you."  
Now that didn't seem like an explanation, more of a fat, misguided excuse, and when it wasn't just Larxene who was saying that, but Vexen too - Marluxia had no clue what to think. He'd never really broken up before. Not like this. Sure, he'd had girlfriends, back before he'd met Vexen, but they were all pretty little things that were just good for a little street cred and something to do at boring parties once the alcohol ran out. Vexen, Marluxia had been sure, was It. Except now nobody but him seemed to think so.  
Eventually necessity called and he stood up, pulled on a clean change of clothes and went to find Larxene.  
"Hey, Larxene?"  
"S'up?"  
Larxene seemed to have brightened up a little now that only one gay was left hanging around. She was lounging on the sofa like she owned the place - and she did, Marluxia supposed. More than him. Vexen was the one who owned the deeds to this place, and she was at least paying rent. Marluxia felt like a freeloader.  
"I... I'm gonna go walk next door's dog now. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"  
He was fully expecting a no, but it was tradition, and right now tradition was all he had to cling on to to stop himself going completely and utterly insane.  
"Sure," Larxene said, flicking off the TV. "Why not."  
"I'll be leaving in five minutes," Marluxia said after he'd recovered from being struck dumb by Larxene's sudden change of mind. "It's quite cold out there, so dress up warm."  
"Whatever you say, _mum_."  
Marluxia felt a stab of pain shoot through him, and whether it was from the gaudy bruises on his leg and head or because he knew that if Larxene had said that to Vexen, it would have _hurt_, he didn't know.  
"Yeah."  
Leaving himself eloquently at that, he left to find his shoes, tugging them on and doing up his laces with dexterous ease. Larxene joined him after a while, and they left in silence to collect the jumpy puppy who was really too young to be owned by a kindly old lady who could barely walk a mile, let alone the twenty that this little bundle of energy would probably manage with plenty of bounce left over. He fussed it extra because it somehow seemed to sense that he was miserable, and then they set off at a decent pace towards the nearest park.  
Marluxia felt like he needed to say something.  
"You know," He eventually began, "I didn't even know that I was gay until I met Vexen."  
"Did he know?" Larxene asked, apparently willing for once to play along.  
"Oh, yeah. He'd known since he was about ten. He told his parents on his sixteenth birthday, and..." He paused. Did Larxene deserve to know? Probably not, but would Vexen ever find out? "Well, they kicked him out. They were Catholics, like yours. Sixteen years old and they kicked him out because he was gay."  
"Why didn't he just change his mind?" Larxene said. "If it was so difficult for him then why couldn't he just be straight?"  
Marluxia stopped, partly out of surprise and sudden realisation, but mostly because the puppy was peeing on a lamppost.  
"You don't choose to be gay," He said, feeling like he was revealing some deep, ancient secret. Why didn't anybody actually know this? "You don't just wake up one morning and think "Oh, hey, I'm going to like men today". You either are, or you aren't. You can't help it."  
"Oh." Larxene said. "My parents always said that-"  
"What do your parents _know_ about homosexuality?" Marluxia asked evenly, if with a tiny bit of malice lacing his words. "What the bible told them? What the priests in church think they can extrapolate from twisted rumours and incorrect, biased scientific data? They don't know _anything_. And trust me, there's a lot to know."  
They walked again.  
"When did you first think you liked him?" Larxene asked eventually as they let the maniac thing off the lead at the park and stood together for a while in awkward silence, not really sure what to do.  
"Well," Marluxia said with the tiniest of smiles on his haunted face, "My parents maintain that it was love at first sight. Apparently the first thing I said about him when I came home was "He's well pretty", although I don't remember that. But I didn't realise for a few months."  
"What, so they knew you were gay before you did?" Larxene said, frowning like it had been anything but what she'd expected.  
"My mum says that she always knew I had it in me. I don't know why, she could just tell right from when I was a little kid that I was going to be this way. Motherly love, I suppose. My dad was a bit put out that he'd never have grandchildren, but me and Vexen always sort of planned to adopt once we had some money."  
"That's really weird," Larxene said, and Marluxia suspected that to be a filler to get around sharing an opinion of her own.  
"Yeah," He agreed. "But I'm glad, really. If my parents'd done what Vexen's did I think we'd both be stuffed. Probably still living out in that crappy little two room flat next to ours trying to scrape together the next fifty quid's worth of rent. But instead we're here, and they're helping Vexen pay the fees for University so he can get his doctorate, and then we'll settle down, maybe get married - civil partnership, even - have a kid just like normal couples. At least, that was always the plan."  
And he sighed, wiping away with his sleeve a new rank of tears that were trying to march across his cheeks.  
The puppy happened to return with somebody else's ball, and Marluxia was glad of the distraction as he levered the thing out if its mouth and chucked it as far as he could. The puppy powered after it at top speed, but it was snatched up by the right dog this time, and they tumbled into a somewhat mismatched playfight over the ball, which at one point was dropped and forgotten on the grass, stealthily stolen by its owner who grinned in Marluxia's direction as he discretely pocketed it to confuse the dogs.  
"He'll come back," Marluxia found himself whispering as they set off again down the road away from the park, clipping the puppy back in on the lead. Larxene didn't reply.

-

She hadn't seen Naminé other than fleetingly, really, since they'd argued on the way home the other day. But they were still stuck in the same class, and as luck would have it, today they were in a seating plan and the clueless teacher had thought that it would be a good idea to shove them together as partners. For a long time they worked in heavy, empty silence, Naminé doing her best to avoid Larxene and Larxene doing her best not to care. She just couldn't understand why Naminé had stormed off like that. She hadn't changed, she hadn't said anything wrong - so why did her best friend suddenly hate her?  
"You know, Marluxia and Vexen split up."  
"Really." Naminé said blankly as she unwillingly reached out to manoeuvre Larxene's arm into a position that would be easier to draw.  
"Well, more like Vexen walked out. Pretty funny, actually."  
For once, it was Naminé scowling, not Larxene.  
"How's that funny? It's awful."  
"They were just fuckbuddies anyway," Larxene replied flippantly. "So what, one of them left. Who cares?"  
"How do you know they didn't love each other?" Naminé challenged, for once not simply backing down like she always did.  
"Come on," Larxene drawled. "They were two men. Men can't love each other like that. Gays can't love at all. It's just sex, isn't it."  
"That's not true," Naminé muttered.  
"Oh, yeah? Prove it."  
Suddenly the class was very silent as Naminé stood up and yelled - and Naminé had _never_ yelled before, not even back in the first year of secondary school when a whole load of bullies tried to gang up on her and Larxene.  
"It's not true because _I'm_ gay, and _I_ love you!"  
She grabbed her paints, and her bag, tears streaming.  
"At least, I _did_. And then I found out that you think that gays are the scum of the Earth. Including, apparently, me. So much for being _best friends_."  
There were two bracelets that Larxene and Naminé had worn ever since they'd declared each other Best Friends, two things that were growing rather shabby now, but neither of them would ever even think about taking them off. But, to Larxene's horror, Naminé reached over for a pair of scissors and with one calculated snip severed the circle of woven, faded threads, catching the broken bracelet and hanging it tantalisingly as though to say _this is what you could have had_, before dropping it pointedly on Larxene's lap.  
_Bitch_.  
She was gone in less than a minute, the whole class watching the door where she'd stormed out in silent, awed surprise.

-

When she came home to find Marluxia a shaking mess on the floor, clutching at some old papers written in Vexen's tight, neat handwriting, she suddenly - sort of - understood.  
"You know you were saying about losing friends," She said as nonchalantly as she could manage (which wasn't very) as she swung by the door into the sitting room. Marluxia glanced up, taking no more care to hide his tear-ridden face.  
"What about it?"  
"Well, I thought you should know that you were right."  
Marluxia laughed humourlessly.  
"I'm always right."  
And he turned back to the papers, hair shielding him from her, and began again to cry.  
"He was only some guy," Larxene said reproachfully. Her hand dug deep into her pocket where she could feel the rough, frayed ends of the Best Friends Forever bracelet that Naminé had broken before her very eyes that morning.  
"He was more than that,"  
"My best friend is gay."  
"That's karma."  
"She says she loved me."  
"Lucky bitch."  
"I'm not a lesbian."  
"You could be. You just don't know it yet."  
Marluxia stood up, leaving the papers scattered uselessly about the floor. He made his way over to where Larxene was hanging in the hallway, and slipped past her.  
"You shouldn't rule anybody out just because of their gender," He said quietly. "Vexen... Vexen always used to say that love is chemistry, not biology. I think he perhaps meant it in a less profound way, but it's true. It's about _who_ you love, not _what_ they are."  
Larxene didn't reply, elbowing her way to the TV and half-deliberately stepping on one of the sheets of paper with her brightly coloured socked foot. Marluxia sighed, and left for his own room.

-

The weekend was awful. Since Vexen was always so busy during the week - and so was Marluxia, in his own right - the weekend was always for _them_, lots and lots of laughter and sex and doing crazy things together and not caring about Monday until seven o'clock on that very morning when they were running late for everything and anything.  
But now there was no Vexen and Marluxia was slowly beginning to resign himself to the fact that there wasn't going to be a Vexen any more because Vexen was gone. Just like that. If Marluxia had been anyone else, he might have blamed himself - but instead, in a hundred small, vindictive ways, his blame lay to rest heavily on Larxene's shoulders. He hadn't driven Vexen away, even if on the night he'd hardly helped. Larxene's cruel words and blunt homophobia was what had driven him to the edge. All Marluxia was guilty of was not catching him before he jumped.  
He rang around all of Vexen's friends, but he wasn't in any of the ones that answered. Marluxia felt like it was a long shot anyway, and he didn't pursue it much. He wondered if he'd gone to stay with Marluxia's parents (who'd become sort of substitutes for his) but he didn't want to have to feel the shame of telling them that Vexen was gone in order to ask them if he was there.  
So he'd just had to sit tight and hope that he would return. He had a feeling that he'd be hoping for a very long time. And every morning that he woke up in a cold, half empty bed, and every time he looked at something stupid like the toaster or the old, worn ornament on the windowsill they'd found together washed up on some beach, or the calendar or the underwear drawer where they kept all their sex toys just to be really, really cliché or the hook by the door where Vexen's long, black coat was still hanging, it got worse. Marluxia even found himself hiding beneath it on Monday evening as though he was desperate for a last minute nook or cranny in some childish game of hide and seek. It smelled of Vexen and if he closed his eyes he could imagine that he was just _there_ again, gorgeous and perfect and holding him close as Marluxia wrapped the empty coat suffocatingly close against his body.  
He fancied he'd go up to the University on Tuesday and catch Vexen after his lecture but the grounds were so vast that he instantly knew that even if he managed to get past the receptionist, he'd never find him. So he sat all day when he should have been at work on a park bench outside and facing the entrance, watching all the Not-Vexens meander in and out until he thought that maybe he'd gone crazy or better yet this was all just a dream and Vexen wanted him back, wanted him now, and preferably also wanted him _in bed_.  
Eventually he went home and didn't sleep until the phone was ringing him awake, the manager of the bookshop he helped out in wondering where he was.  
"Sorry. I've had a bad weekend."  
"Yes, you sound like it. Are you coming in tomorrow?"  
"Yeah. I think I need the distraction."  
"Anything you'd like to talk to me about?"  
The woman who owned the shop was an approachable, motherly middle-aged lady who of course knew all about Marluxia and Vexen - and if Marluxia could talk to anybody about the events of the past few days, it would be her.  
"It's Vexen," He said, his voice rising a note or three even as he recalled the other man's name to his lips. "He's... he's gone."  
There was a pause for a while as they both took a moment to consider this, one for the first time and the other for the millionth.  
"I'm so sorry."  
"Hey just walked out. On Wednesday. We had an argument and he left. I haven't heard from him since and I don't think he's coming back. Not even to get his stuff."  
"He wouldn't just leave," The lady said encouragingly. "He really loves you, Marluxia. He probably just needs some time out."  
"But he's been gone nearly a _week_," Marluxia said miserably, sitting down as far from the desk where all of Vexen's work was still laid out as the old cord on the phone would allow.  
"Then that means you haven't got long left to wait, doesn't it?" The lady replied and Marluxia could almost see that familiar smile. "You two go back years," She continued. "He wouldn't just leave and you never see him again. That doesn't sound like Vexen at all."  
"I suppose," Marluxia said, although he wasn't convinced himself. A few formalities later and he put the phone down with a solemn click, sighing a little. Then he grabbed the spare duvet that didn't smell as much of Vexen and propped all the cushions up at one end of the sofa, changed into his pyjamas and settled down. He couldn't sleep in their bed. Not any more. In a couple of weeks if Vexen still wasn't back, then he'd get a blow up mattress or something to sleep on instead. Something new and completely devoid of Vexen. It was awful, but better than something that was almost but not quite the other man.  
He still didn't really sleep.

-

_"Hey, Naminé. It's Larxene. I know you hate me now, but I was wondering if you wanted to come around and meet up before Christmas. I got you a really nice present and I think it'd be a shame to let it go to waste because I'm certainly not going to be able to use it, and God forbid that Marluxia ever tries to. Although I don't think he will. He looks really miserable without Vexen. Wanders around like a lost puppy hoping that somebody will take him home and fuss over his hair. He washed the pink out, you know. Loathe as I am to admit it, brown doesn't suit him. But... I guess I'm rambling. Well, I'm free tomorrow if you're interested. So. Yeah. Call back, please."_  
This phone lay on the bed, a little way away from its owner, flipped open and playing the One New Message on repeat.  
_Hey, Naminé. It's Larxene... Yeah. Call back, please._  
Naminé wiped her eyes on her sleeve and leaned over, picked up the phone and dialled recall.

-

"Vexen."  
It was Wednesday morning and a week had passed since Vexen had turned up on Lexaeus and Zexion's doorstep, drenched by the rain and looking utterly miserable. Now he'd recovered a little - but there was a haunted ghost still hiding behind his eyes, and his movements were still almost lethargic in their mechanical, automatic nature, and the reason was simple: Vexen needed Marluxia.  
"We think it's probably time for you to go back now."  
Vexen, who'd been brewing himself yet another mug of coffee, found himself pointing accusingly at the phone.  
"He hasn't called. He hasn't even tried to call me. I really hurt him that night. How can I just mosey in and expect him to forgive me?"  
Zexion, who was working on the kitchen table, sighed.  
"Or you could never go back and just expect him to pick up the pieces alone."  
"He knows I love him," Vexen said reproachfully. "I left him a message the first night and he never called back or anything. He must be really mad at me."  
Lexaeus was hanging in the doorway, silent.  
"How long have you been with Marluxia?"  
Vexen shrugged.  
"A long time. Six years, almost?"  
"I rest my case."  
"Basically," Zexion finished, "We're kicking you out. Off you go."

-

Marluxia was walking home from work when he saw _him_, strutting purposefully somewhere with his hips seductively swinging without him even noticing, his hair swaying a little in the breeze. There were twenty, perhaps thirty people between them, but he still immediately broke into a run, planting his face into Vexen's back and his arms firmly around his waist whether he liked it or not.  
"_Vexen_..."  
"Gah! Marluxia?!"  
Somehow Vexen managed to twist in Marluxia's crushing embrace to gently wrap his arms around the other man.  
"Oh God, Vexen, please come back. I can't survive without you."  
"Why didn't you call me?"  
"I didn't know where you _were_! You just disappeared!"  
"Didn't you get my message? I left a voice mail on your phone."  
Marluxia suddenly wanted to laugh at the irony.  
"Vexen, my phone charger broke. I didn't think there'd be any point checking my phone because you _never_ text me. You should have emailed me or something."  
"I didn't bother to because I know that you never check your emails." Vexen replied.  
"It was the _first_ place I looked. You're always emailing everybody."  
They prised themselves away enough to look each other in the eye.  
"Shit," The eventually both said, simultaneously.  
"I'm so sorry," Vexen said.  
"I love you." Marluxia said.  
"I love you too."  
And then they were too busy doing other things with their mouths, hell if either of them cared that they were in public as tongues were thrust deep into throats and hands found familiar grips on places of varying degrees of appropriateness. Eventually it was the police who came along and pulled them apart for indecent exposure and sent them on their way, hand in hand and still nipping at kisses when they thought that nobody was looking.  
"So," Marluxia said, looking a lot more comfortable with himself as he clicked open the lock of their apartment. "I think you have some explaining to do."  
And when that explanation came in the form of hot, wet, much-missed sex, it was plenty of an explanation for Marluxia.

-

Larxene was nervous as she waited by the station to meet Naminé, who she hadn't even seen, let alone spoken to since that day when she'd stormed out of class nearly a week ago. She couldn't believe how much she was missing somebody who was just a friend. Slowly as the days had progressed, she'd found herself sympathising more and more with Marluxia - poor Marluxia, lost without Vexen to hold him up - but personal pride had ensured that she hadn't summoned up the courage to walk in and apologise, as much as that would have helped the older man.  
But Naminé she really needed to apologise to, for all the times she'd expressed her hatred of homosexuals to her without even realising that she _was_ one...  
She had in her pocket two new bracelets that she'd bought with a little extra embroidery thread to sew into it with a needle in the small hours of last night as soon as Naminé had called back, and she fingered them nervously as she waited. This had to go right. She didn't really have any other friends - well, there was Axel but he was a dick - and without Naminé she felt like she was just as a loss as to what to do.  
A bit like Marluxia was without Vexen. It was scary the number of parallels she found herself able to draw between her and him.  
Except she wasn't gay.  
She was struck by how _normal_ Naminé looked as she stepped off the train, in jeans and a fitted t shirt with her hair falling like it always did over one shoulder, glancing left and right as she looked for Larxene. She didn't _look_ like a lesbian, like a girl who liked other girls and got drunk a lot and groped people or whatever lesbians did. She just looked like... Naminé.  
Larxene waved awkwardly and the smaller girl hurried over.  
"Hey."  
"Hi."  
"So... How are you?"  
"I'm..." Naminé paused. "I'm okay. You?"  
It didn't sound like the truth but Larxene left it at that because she wasn't the only one lying when she said;  
"I'm fine,"  
"Cool."  
"Back to mine?"  
"Yeah, okay."  
They walked off across the bridge back to the right side of the station and then along to the footpath towards the apartment where Larxene lived.  
"You know," Naminé commented halfway there, "I wish you'd invited me over before Vexen left. I really wanted to meet him and see what he was really like. I mean, aside from the whole sex thing because that was all you ever talked about."  
Larxene was all geared up to say _Well, that's all they ever did_, but then she realised that that honestly wasn't true and she'd just been ignoring everything that made Marluxia and Vexen friends and not just lovers.  
"He was pretty quiet," She said thoughtfully, recalling the few times that she'd actually bothered to talk to the chemist. "I mean, Marluxia was always the outgoing one. Now he hardly ever talks either."  
"Well," Naminé said, "A break up like that must have been really painful. Like you and me and we're just friends."  
"We've been friends longer than they ever knew each other," Larxene insisted, trying not to think about the fact that she'd just, in a way, "broken up" with Naminé.  
"I suppose so."  
It really wasn't long to the apartment and Larxene habitually took the stairs two or three at a time, Naminé being forced to hurry to catch up. She hung quietly around the doorway, feeling like things needed to be said before they could go inside and play at being friends again.  
"So... Naminé..."  
"Hm?"  
Larxene swallowed her pride, and forced herself to meet the shorter girl's eyes. She needed to do this - in one fell swoop backed by fifteen years of friendship, Naminé had successfully felled all of Larxene's misconceptions and now it was time for her to acknowledge that.  
"Look. About everything. I'm sorry, okay?"  
Naminé smiled - genuinely - for the first time in what Larxene suddenly realised was ages.  
"Yeah. I forgive you."  
"Really?"  
Naminé bit her lip, still smiling in her own sweet, quirky way as she thought. Larxene found herself drawn to that pert little mouth, lips pink and glossy.  
"Well... Can I just have one thing first, please?"  
"Sure. What's that?"  
Naminé put her fingers gently on her lips, her eyes perfectly conveying what she wanted, but still Larxene found the urge just to check - just in case she was wrong.  
"A kiss?"  
"A kiss."  
Larxene felt her cheeks explode into a blush but she couldn't exactly back out of this - not since she was pretty much teetering on the edge of loosing her very best friend. So she mumbled a bashful "Fine," and leaned down to peck shyly at Naminé's strawberry flavoured lips.  
"You kissed a girl, and you liked it~"  
Larxene immediately stumbled away to turn and glare at Marluxia who had inexplicably appeared in the doorway, wearing Not Enough Clothing and dangling off a familiar pair of hips. So surprised as she was to see Vexen (who was at least fully clothed unlike Marluxia who seemed to have lost everything bar his boxers), she forgot to defend herself until it was too late and Marluxia was ushering her inside, welcoming her to the "club" as Vexen rolled his eyes and followed, hanging up Naminé's coat for her and offering her a drink.  
"So when did Vexen get back?"  
"Met him down by the shops," Marluxia said, his usual chirpy and somewhat arrogant self. "We got cautioned by the police for making out too lewdly in public, didn't we, Vexen?"  
Vexen hmmed in reply as he boiled the kettle for tea.  
"So what about you? Finally getting in touch with your lesbian side?"  
"No way! She just asked me to, that was all!" Larxene instantly exclaimed, reddening again. She felt intimidated again, everybody around her gay and her the odd one out. Even little Naminé... Larxene hadn't thought about that much, mostly because she couldn't really imagine Naminé being gay because she was so used to simply assuming that she was straight.  
"You'd make a good lesbian," Vexen suddenly said as he poured boiling water into the kettle and sat down to sat for the tea to brew. Larxene didn't know whether to be worried, offended or both. For sake of being polite, she eventually chose curiosity.  
"Why?"  
"I don't know." Vexen replied honestly, one hand finding finding Marluxia's on the table. "Call it natural instinct?"  
"I promise you," Larxene said, holding up her hands, "I am not gay. Nuh uh. One hundred percent into men. No offence... but it just isn't my thing."

She had no idea how wrong she was.


End file.
